I was out shopping for Witch supplies today, which is always a fun adventure in a rural location with no occult supply shops closeby.
Luckily, I'm crafty.
Get it. Crafty. Oy, I slay myself. Anywho.
HEB has this whole section for crunchy new agey feel-good stuff, so I was able to score some select herbal products, spices, and essential oils, which made me quite the happy dude.
Marching up proudly to the check-out to pay for my purchase, the young lady eyed my purchase and says:
"Lavender? Patchouli? Are you going home to make soap?"
At which point the Fight Club quotes start running through my head, as they often do in these situations, it being one of my favorite movies and all.
So I leaned against the counter and cocked my eyebrow and played along, telling her that I was in fact going home to make soap. Had I had business cards in my wallet, I would have given her one.
"Oh that's so awesome! I was just kidding, but it's great that you make soap. You know, my brother makes soap. He gets lots of teasing for it. Do you use lye? I hear that stuff stinks."
Not being a stranger to the soap-making process, I was able to bluff my way through 5 minutes of soap-talk.
I easily could have said "Oh no, I'm going home to practice Witchcraft." But that probably wouldn't have gone over well.
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